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3, 2, 1...
Three words is all it takes to crack Sunset's heart like old glass.
"I got in!" Twilight yells as she leaps across her room toward Sunset Shimmer, hellbent on hugging her with all her strength.
Sunset inhales her girlfriend's vanilla-lavender-mystery breakfast scent, managing to keep the shards of her heart from collapsing a little longer.
After a minute of cheerful hugging and hollering, Twilight's frantic glee slows down. Her arms slowly drag down from Sunset's neck to around behind her waist so she can twirl a few of the longer strands of red-yellow hair between her fingers.
"I don't have to go."
"Yeah, you do."
Now the pieces can fall apart.
Summer runs by in a blur after that day. Snippets of lists and shopping and packing all swirl together in Sunset's memory, the only clear part are the eyes looking out from behind black horn-rimmed glasses; the focused center of her own hurricane.
From the periphery of her hearing, Sunset recognizes someone saying her name.
"Sunset, darling, did you hear a word I just said?"
"Not really, no. Sorry," she answers, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her scalp. "I've had a million things on my mind lately."
"Let's be honest, you've had exactly one thing on your mind. And rightfully so, I believe. Which is precisely what I was trying to ask you a moment ago. Have you two decided what to do about 'you' yet? The plural, romantic 'you,' I mean to say."
"I've been trying not to think about it, honestly."
Rarity leveled her eyes at Sunset. "I wouldn't dare tell you what to do in this case, of course, but I will say that you must do something."
"I know. I think I've known what the right road ahead is since she opened that damned acceptance letter. I guess I just wanted to pretend she wasn't leaving at all a little while longer."
Rarity reaches out and gently squeezes Sunset's hand.
"You're sure you've got everything on you for the train ride, Twilight?" Sunset asks, her thumb rubbing gently across the back of Twilight's hand.
"I've double checked every bag so many times the very concept of 'bag' has undergone an advanced sort of semantic satiation," Twilight replies. Her free hand slowly tightens and loosens at her side, barely releasing little bits of her pent up nervous energy.
Sunset sucks in and releases a deep breath. "Only one thing left to do, then."
"Get on the train?"
"Two things left to do, then," Sunset says.
"No, I'm very certain I did everything on the boarding procedure advisory—"
"—just take your little notepad out of your pocket and look at the back of the last page."
Twilight fishes out her travel sized notepad and looks at the last page. Sunset mouths the two words written there to herself as Twilight reads them.
Let go
Her fingers uncurl from Sunset's, and her hand drifts to her side. She takes a small step away, toward the train, before turning and pulling Sunset in for a kiss. Their eyes lock as their lips drift apart, and Twilight mouths a reply before turning and running for her train:
Never
"I got in!" Twilight yells as she leaps across her room toward Sunset Shimmer, hellbent on hugging her with all her strength.
Sunset inhales her girlfriend's vanilla-lavender-mystery breakfast scent, managing to keep the shards of her heart from collapsing a little longer.
After a minute of cheerful hugging and hollering, Twilight's frantic glee slows down. Her arms slowly drag down from Sunset's neck to around behind her waist so she can twirl a few of the longer strands of red-yellow hair between her fingers.
"I don't have to go."
"Yeah, you do."
Now the pieces can fall apart.
Summer runs by in a blur after that day. Snippets of lists and shopping and packing all swirl together in Sunset's memory, the only clear part are the eyes looking out from behind black horn-rimmed glasses; the focused center of her own hurricane.
From the periphery of her hearing, Sunset recognizes someone saying her name.
"Sunset, darling, did you hear a word I just said?"
"Not really, no. Sorry," she answers, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her scalp. "I've had a million things on my mind lately."
"Let's be honest, you've had exactly one thing on your mind. And rightfully so, I believe. Which is precisely what I was trying to ask you a moment ago. Have you two decided what to do about 'you' yet? The plural, romantic 'you,' I mean to say."
"I've been trying not to think about it, honestly."
Rarity leveled her eyes at Sunset. "I wouldn't dare tell you what to do in this case, of course, but I will say that you must do something."
"I know. I think I've known what the right road ahead is since she opened that damned acceptance letter. I guess I just wanted to pretend she wasn't leaving at all a little while longer."
Rarity reaches out and gently squeezes Sunset's hand.
"You're sure you've got everything on you for the train ride, Twilight?" Sunset asks, her thumb rubbing gently across the back of Twilight's hand.
"I've double checked every bag so many times the very concept of 'bag' has undergone an advanced sort of semantic satiation," Twilight replies. Her free hand slowly tightens and loosens at her side, barely releasing little bits of her pent up nervous energy.
Sunset sucks in and releases a deep breath. "Only one thing left to do, then."
"Get on the train?"
"Two things left to do, then," Sunset says.
"No, I'm very certain I did everything on the boarding procedure advisory—"
"—just take your little notepad out of your pocket and look at the back of the last page."
Twilight fishes out her travel sized notepad and looks at the last page. Sunset mouths the two words written there to herself as Twilight reads them.
Let go
Her fingers uncurl from Sunset's, and her hand drifts to her side. She takes a small step away, toward the train, before turning and pulling Sunset in for a kiss. Their eyes lock as their lips drift apart, and Twilight mouths a reply before turning and running for her train:
Never
Pics
I don't even know, dude. I really feel like this needed more words to properly flesh out the story. I mean, it's really fast and kinda snippy. That's honestly all I can give you here. Without more to it, it just feels... empty.
Idk. Maybe I'm just insane. Or tired. I am pretty tired.
Idk. Maybe I'm just insane. Or tired. I am pretty tired.
I had an idea just like this!
In any case, really liking this – especially that ending. I can imagine some people seeing it as melodramatic, but it really hits me in the right place. Reminds me of an old romance movie, with the man chasing after his woman leaving on the train, and just having to stop at the edge of the platform.
In any case, really liking this – especially that ending. I can imagine some people seeing it as melodramatic, but it really hits me in the right place. Reminds me of an old romance movie, with the man chasing after his woman leaving on the train, and just having to stop at the edge of the platform.
Excellent hook. Excellent, excellent hook. But then:
Honestly, author, this is your story writ small right here, and both works and doesn't work for the same reason the piece as a whole does. You've identified a fantastic central conflict, framed it well, and are pulling intense drama from it. But in this scene, we go from "I got in!" and "a minute of cheerful hugging and hollering" all the way to the opposite extreme of "I don't have to go" in just 34 words.
That's not a transition to elide over. That's exactly the beats you want to hit.
Show us Twilight's widening eyes and let us hear the little deflated squeak she makes as she realizes that Sunset isn't sharing her happiness. Let us listen in on her "What's wrong?" and Sunset's evasions and Twilight's confused pushing and the way that blows up into something that neither one of them quite admits is a fight. This is the moment during which nothing is ever the same again. You craft such beauty out of other, later, lesser moments that I just can't understand how this one's brushed off.
And if that moment isn't the story you want to tell -- which is legit -- then save it, to spring it on us later when you're ready for the dominoes to fall. Use that first scene to establish the tension of secrets, as Sunset's world breaks apart and Twilight never realizes. "I don't have to go" means that their cards are on the table and they have to talk about the next step. It undercuts the otherwise poignant ending where that question of the future should be haltingly approached for the first time.
Basically: You're writing a story about a ticking time bomb. Be very careful about exactly when you light the fuse, commit to it, and show us the explosion.
Otherwise -- and it feels a little weird to "otherwise" a major, crucial structural issue -- this is gorgeously done. I'm starting to accumulate rather a pile of stories in my "already does many things right, but is so close to being stellar" tier.
Tier:Already Does Many Things Right, But Is So Close To Being Stellar (low) Strong
"I got in!" Twilight yells as she leaps across her room toward Sunset Shimmer, hellbent on hugging her with all her strength.
Sunset inhales her girlfriend's vanilla-lavender-mystery breakfast scent, managing to keep the shards of her heart from collapsing a little longer.
After a minute of cheerful hugging and hollering, Twilight's frantic glee slows down. Her arms slowly drag down from Sunset's neck to around behind her waist so she can twirl a few of the longer strands of red-yellow hair between her fingers.
"I don't have to go."
Honestly, author, this is your story writ small right here, and both works and doesn't work for the same reason the piece as a whole does. You've identified a fantastic central conflict, framed it well, and are pulling intense drama from it. But in this scene, we go from "I got in!" and "a minute of cheerful hugging and hollering" all the way to the opposite extreme of "I don't have to go" in just 34 words.
That's not a transition to elide over. That's exactly the beats you want to hit.
Show us Twilight's widening eyes and let us hear the little deflated squeak she makes as she realizes that Sunset isn't sharing her happiness. Let us listen in on her "What's wrong?" and Sunset's evasions and Twilight's confused pushing and the way that blows up into something that neither one of them quite admits is a fight. This is the moment during which nothing is ever the same again. You craft such beauty out of other, later, lesser moments that I just can't understand how this one's brushed off.
And if that moment isn't the story you want to tell -- which is legit -- then save it, to spring it on us later when you're ready for the dominoes to fall. Use that first scene to establish the tension of secrets, as Sunset's world breaks apart and Twilight never realizes. "I don't have to go" means that their cards are on the table and they have to talk about the next step. It undercuts the otherwise poignant ending where that question of the future should be haltingly approached for the first time.
Basically: You're writing a story about a ticking time bomb. Be very careful about exactly when you light the fuse, commit to it, and show us the explosion.
Otherwise -- and it feels a little weird to "otherwise" a major, crucial structural issue -- this is gorgeously done. I'm starting to accumulate rather a pile of stories in my "already does many things right, but is so close to being stellar" tier.
Tier:
